The Nature of Predators - Farsul Abductee (1/8)

Memory transcription subject: Danny Palmer, Human Law Enforcement

Date [standardized human time]: June 14, 1974

The Bureau’s name had been dragged through the mud, for as long as their Watergate shitshow ran its course in the media. President Nixon was embarrassing the country’s institutions and highest office, with the increasing awareness of his involvement. To my civilian friends’ disappointment, I had nothing to do with those investigations, despite how every field office was lending resources and sharing the interview burden. All I did was a menial role as a pencil pusher, sifting through reports of suspicious activities. My superiors often chose to discard tips I passed along as “not worth the time.”

Senior Supervisory Analyst was a mouthful of a title, so it was abbreviated to SSA in most cases; those in the office who were less than fond of Marvin Schneider would drop the A, in what I thought was a tasteless reference. The reasons behind that nickname were obvious, with the boss being a hardass through and through. He was looking to catch anyone slacking off, yakking with their coworkers, or failing to meet their production quotas. However, I never had issues with him, since I could fly through reading in a blur. My mother said I’d always been a bookworm, spending every summer with my head stuck in a book.

Schneider wandered in with me, as I filtered into the elevator at the end of the day. “Weekend’s upon us, Danny. In a rush to get out of here, are ya? You got any plans with that Susan girl of yours?”

“We broke up,” I answered, with a weary sigh. Worked too late, too often. “She didn’t like the long hours and all.”

“Is that right? I thought you were a lovely couple, damn shame. You need to find someone who appreciates a hard-working man.”

“I’m alright with being alone, and doing some things just by myself. When the right person comes along, I’ll know.”

“Well, I expect you to get a headstart on the briefing materials.” The elevator dinged, and Schneider’s eyes lingered on me as we walked out. “Be there bright and early, you hear me, son?”

“Yes, sir.”

I didn’t mind the extra workload that much, as nice as it would be to have an uninterrupted breather. Reading came naturally to me; I enjoyed my job, and picking relevant information out of the weeds was a delightful task. I understood where my supervisor was coming from, since the war generation was different. The Bureau had a reputation to uphold, and Schneider took that personally. He was a workaholic, who held everyone else to the same standard of diligence he followed.

My father was a lot like him, so I guess I’m used to it. Everything has to be perfect. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.

I waved farewell to Schneider, who seemed pleased by my mild-mannered obedience. Placing myself in his good graces, it was a matter of time before I was slated for a promotion. A couple years toeing the line, and maybe I could have my own position of power. For all I knew, I’d end up being just like the guy, running a tight ship. Tapping the beige hood of my car idly, I ducked into the door.

The wall-to-wall traffic in Boston was a familiar sight, as I cruised away from my job. Perhaps what I’d built was a mundane life, but I was looking forward to becoming respectable and settling down. Unlike my brother, Greg, my parents could talk about me without veiled  disappointment, or remarking that I was “a free spirit.” Greg was a bad influence—a fuck-up who got other people caught up in his wake. I’d moved across the country to avoid seeing him, apart from Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Upon my arrival at my apartment, I hiked up a set of stairs and was eager to conk out on the couch. My hands fiddled with my key ring, unlocking the door with relief. However, a drawling voice shouting my name about made me jump out of my skin. After jumping back, startled, disdain took over. I recognized the intruder as the deadbeat brother I resented so much.

“Dan the man! What’s crackin’?” Greg declared, wrapping me in a smothering hug.

I heaved a sigh. “You just let yourself into my apartment…showed up from San Francisco, unannounced.”

“It’s a surprise! Your birthday’s Sunday, and after all the years apart, we gotta do something radical. Besides, I’ve never seen your crib. Listen—”

“Why do you talk like that? Do you think it’s cool?”

“Well, yeah, it’s pretty nifty!”

“Is letting yourself into my place ‘nifty?’ I never gave you a key.”

“Take a chill pill! You left the window open, and I drove all this way to see you. Why are you so bugged out? We’re family.”

I truly was a patient man, not one to lose my temper or hold a grudge. Greg was a special case, however; I couldn’t be around him without feeling irked. My brother was what polite company would dismiss as a hippie, a pothead who didn’t take anything seriously. Every opportunity throughout our childhood, he would steal the spotlight, or ruin occasions with some harebrained stunt. My resentment became permanent after I found him stealing from cash I had in a shoebox under my bed, earned from my first job at the local diner.

I have no concrete proof of other instances, but a lot of things went missing when we were kids. Greg is a kleptomaniac, and I can’t be convinced otherwise.

I checked my apartment cautiously, inspecting my brother’s pockets with sideways glances. A quick inventory showed no valuables were missing yet, but I had to keep him under close watch. Trying to loosen my shoulders, I slipped my jacket off my arm and threw it onto the couch. Part of me wondered why Greg was really here, if he wanted handouts, or if he’d committed a major fuck-up that he needed help with. At the end of the day, he was correct that he was family. I had to humor him, for a short while.

I held out my hands in front of me. “What is it you want, Greg?”

“You live such an uneventful life. Do you ever do anything for yourself? Do you do anything risky?” he asked, flipping his stringy, dust-colored locks behind his shoulder. “I know we haven’t always gotten along, but we had good times. I want one night where it’s like we were kids again.”

“Get to the point. What is it you want?”

“The beach! Why don’t we go to the beach and look up at the stars? I hauled my guitar up here. Learned some funky folk tunes, even wrote a few of my own.”

“The beach is closed.”

“Who’s gonna give Mr. FBI a hassle? We can catch up, and you can live a little. I don’t think you really listened to any of my stories ‘bout the war protests, so I could catch you up.”

“If I go with you, will you leave?”

“You do this and I’ll mind my potatoes. Promise.”

Suppressing another sigh, I waved my car keys around and gestured toward the door. This was going to be an insufferable drive, listening to Greg prattle on about his flower power nonsense. Where I had been looking forward to the weekend, now I was wishing to be back at work.

—

Massachusetts beaches were the best-kept secret; the coast was beautiful at this time of year. The stars reflecting in the ocean’s expanse looked like radiant pearls, bobbing with the waves. Greg kicked off his shoes, and ran onto the soft sand with exuberant shouts. I left my work shoes in the car, plodding along in socks. The gusty breeze felt nice on my face, blowing away some of the stresses of coping with my brother.

Greg plunked himself down in the sand, after tucking his guitar case down gently. I thought about asking if he knew any Don McLean songs, but opted against it. My brother would prefer to offer a poor rendition of a Bob Dylan tune, since that seemed to be his fancy every time we met. I found a spot next to him, resisting the urge to check my wristwatch. It would fall on me to make sure we didn’t track sand back into my car after this outing.

Instead of pulling the beat-up guitar from his case, Greg retrieved what was unmistakably a rolled-up stick of weed. My eyes about bulged from my head, as my brother lit that up right next to a federal agent. The skunky smell was recognizable in an instant, and I stared daggers into his skull. The washed-up hippie that called himself my sibling instead extended the drugs toward me.

“Fuck you! Are you trying to get me fired?” I spat. “Why would you put me in this position? If someone saw me here…”

Greg lowered the paper. “I thought you could afford to relax. Always so serious, so put together.”

“That is a good thing. Life isn’t a fucking joke. I am going somewhere, climbing the ladder, and I don’t need you taking a sledgehammer to it. But that’s what you do—you fuck things up for others and leave them to clean up the mess!”

“I…you really hate me, don’t you?”

“You know what: yes, I do! I wish I’d never see you again.”

My brother winced, reaching for his guitar case with a crestfallen expression. He trudged back up the beach, and I thought I heard the sounds of sniffling. Guilt tugged at my chest, as I realized my words were harsh, yet I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to stay. When he was almost out of shouting distance, it occurred to me that I couldn’t let him walk or hitchhike back to town. My parents would blame me if he got into trouble in Boston, despite both of us being full-grown, independent adults.

“Hey, come back, Greg! I’ll give you a ride home.” I sprinted after him, though he didn’t turn around at all. “Why don’t you tell me about those songs you’ve been writing?”

“You don’t care,” he sulked.

“We already came all the way out here. Might as well try to have a good time, right? Like you said, we’re family, so we—”

A dazzling light, perhaps a spotlight beamed directly at us, flashed out of the corner of my eye. Greg’s head snapped in its direction, and the look of alarm suggested his first thought was that we’d been caught trespassing. I could hear a distant noise, like the jingling of a bell, and spotted movement near the jagged cliffs. Were kids playing some odd games with kites, drawing attention to the area? Stumped, I decided to investigate for further clues.

“Must be some hooligans stirring up trouble. I’ll go check it out, clear ‘em out,” I muttered.

Greg crossed his arms. “Whatever. I’ll watch your six, but then I’m gonna keep on steppin’, dude.”

I crept back down onto the beach, and felt the sand give way beneath my toes. The lapping of the water offered a soothing sound, as I donned my best stern expression. Messing around on the cliffs was dangerous; the last thing I wanted was to see someone fall and crack their skulls, or get trapped in an eddy current. Why didn’t parents supervise their children at all, at these hours of the night? Cursing to myself, I accelerated to a light jog. My brother watched from the edge of the sand, a vacant gaze on his face.

Chills went down my spine, although I couldn’t put my finger on why at first. Then I realized; there were no birds in the sky, and no ambient noises from animals. The sand seemed to have swept away, with a windblown pattern that cleared off the upper layer. My eyes darted around, searching for the source of the noise. If this was some practical joke on a passerby, it was successful in giving me the creeps.

What if it’s not kids? It could be something like that Zodiac Killer in the papers; he’d love to gut an FBI agent.

“Hello?” I called out, cupping my hands to my face. “Show yourself!”

A pained yelp echoed out behind me, and I whirled around. That had definitely been Greg’s register, but I couldn’t see my brother keeping watch in the distance. If this was him messing around with me, I was going to knock his lights out; this wasn’t amusing at all. Blood rushed in my ears, as I raised my fists in a defensive posture. My head was on a swivel, searching for the mysterious prowler. They likely were armed, but maybe if I rushed them, I could take them down.

My heart was hammering in my rib cage, and the adrenaline was overruling conscious thought. If some murderer kidnapped my idiot brother to torture him, I wouldn’t let that happen on my watch. I booked it back toward where Greg had been, pushing my lungs to their limit. There was nothing but a trail of foot-holes, followed by what looked like drag marks. This was the real deal; someone had dragged him across the ground like a sack of potatoes!

I gritted my teeth, huffing. “I said show yourself, coward! Are you not man enough to look—”

Something pierced the palm of my hand, and I brought it close to my chest on instinct. A dart was sticking out of the meaty flesh, which I yanked out in a hurry. It tingled like venom, and hot blood oozed out onto my damp skin. Whipping around,  there was no sign of the person that shot me. I realized with a start if that was laced with some agent, I needed to find shelter before it took effect. If not, I’d be completely at this psychopath’s disposal.

Thinking quickly, I got the desperate idea to lock myself in my car and get it rolling. Despite being still winded, I pushed myself to full speed; my feet fumbled off the sandy ground and landed on the stone pathway. The pavement felt rough beneath my socks, but I ignored the scraping pain. The beige paint of my vehicle was visible a few hundred meters away, and I pushed my legs even harder. My strides turned heavier, each step more haphazard than the last, as I began to lose command of my weight.

Almost there. Fight…keep going!

Vertigo took hold, and I stumbled on the pavement. It was difficult to balance, even after I pushed myself back to my feet. Thoughts diminished, beyond the vague sense of horror of what would happen to me and my brother. All my brainpower was directed to issuing a new command to move my legs, but instead, they buckled altogether. The sound of my skull hitting the pavement was like dropping a bowling ball onto the lane; everything was fuzzy. I extended a three-ton hand, stretching it out toward my tires.

The irony was how close I’d been to my Hail Mary; my downed form was perhaps a yard away from the car.

Sneaking onto the beach was the sort of needless jaunt that I should’ve never agreed to. This topped everything else that my brother had gotten me wrapped up in. My arm splayed limply across my stomach, and my attempt to call for help came out as a groan. Were these my final moments alive? Was this my last taste of fresh air, and my last experience not in agony? Nobody who would kidnap someone roaming the beach could have good intentions.

Blackness cast its shadow over my vision, the sign of my system shutting down against my will.

Next 

A/N - Part 1 of the new series! Our main character is an FBI agent from the 70s who has bad blood with his brother...and of course, winds up abducted out on the beach. We learn exactly what goes into the missions to snatch human subjects, and what it was like from their perspective. What will it be like for Danny when he wakes up? How will he handle the sudden twist of fate?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!